Scattered
by Amerachan
Summary: Chapter 9 up! There is no equivalent price for the love of family.
1. My Favorite Flavor

Ok, so here's some other random thing. I was really bored this morning, I decided to write this. It's actually this thing my otouto-chan (little brother) and I came up with up while playing a terribly addictive puzzle game from 1998. That's also somewhere around the time I came up with Kaiba's new company: MGFCMC; the Magic Giant Flowing Cape Making Company. I was tired! And we were waiting for Zatch Bell to come on. For those of you who read my other story, The Sins that Bind Us, and are waiting for an update on that, Gomen Nasai! I haven't had too much time for writing, what with school having started and weekends being filled with homework. Plus, my inspiration's been near to zero. So I'm really sorry it's taking so long, but I wrote a little for that this morning too. Hopefully, I'll have a new section lined up for you guys by next weekend. So anyway, enjoy.

* * *

My Favorite Flavor

Boredom. How terrible it really was. Slender digits played with long dark-green locks, twirling them around in endless circles.

Envy had been condemned to the cave, by that person, for failing to force the Hagane-no-Chibi to make the Philosopher's Stone. Sloth was put in charge to watch over him for who knows what reason, and by some random happenstance, Greed was there. Why? He didn't know, but he really didn't care. That bastard could go drown in a lake for all he cared. But for some reason, the all-greedy one stood at the bottom of the ledge upon which Envy had lied himself upon, glaring up at him for nearly an hour now. Finally, he shifted onto his stomach to gaze at the pimpish homunculus.

"What the hell do you want?" Envy demanded.

"Relax, relax. I'm not here to fight. I'm here to propose something to you." Greed said nonchalantly.

"Marry a woman you freak," Envy spat.

"Not that kind of proposal you idiot palm tree," he said, annoyed.

"Then what you want? Make it quick. I got more important boredom to entertain."

"Let's have some fun with Sloth," Greed said with a shark-toothed grin.

"Hell no. I don't want to get near her."

"Not like that! I mean, let's play a joke on her overly tight ass."

"Ok. You've got my attention," Envy said, jumped down from his perch, landing gracefully on his feet.

Greed slowly took out a small machine and held it out to the palm tree.

"What is it?" Envy said, eyeing it closely.

"A smoothie machine," Greed said, the grin reappearing on his lips.

Envy smiled as well, a wicked smile. Thoughts and images were already playing themselves out in his mind, dancing in front of his eyes.

"All the ingredients are in there. All it needs...is some water. I trust you know what to do," Greed whispered.

Envy nodded and took the machine. He pivoted and walked deeper into the cave, in the direction of Sloth, where she sat upon a couch, reading a book. Envy walked up to her and put the machine upon the table that sat in front of the couch and plugged it in. Sloth spared him but a glance before returning to her book, sighing with a slightly annoyed tone invading her unvoiced welcome. Envy then took on the role of the idiot, pushing the buttons on the machine, which held under its spout a cup.

"Dammit, it won't work!" Envy exclaimed, annoyed. He pound his fist into the table, causing Sloth to jump in response and glare at him.

"What won't work?" she asked in monotone.

"This machine. It won't work!"

"What is it? A milkshake machine or something?" Sloth asked as she set down her book, looking at it.

"Maybe you can find out what's wrong with it," Envy suggested. "After all, you can turn into water, so you can see inside it, right?"

"Yes, sure," she said with a sigh.

Envy opened the top, where the water was supposed to go. Sloth put her face near the opening and transformed her body into liquid and slipped into the machine. That was the moment that he needed. Envy slipped his finger onto the 'on' button and the machine began to whir and soon, the drink slipped into the cup. Envy took out the cup and slipped a straw into the glass and sipped the drink.

"Oh, it's not a milkshake machine, it's a smoothie maker, you idiot," Envy said with a smirk. He took another sip of the glass. "Hey! You're my favorite flavor."

And off to the side was the almighty Greedy homunculus, his sides in pain from laughing so hard.

* * *

Ok, I know, the end probably sucks, but I wasn't too sure on how to close it all up. It didn't really have an end with my otouto-chan and I, so I had to come up with something. Don't ask where the smoothie came up. I was seriously wanting a smoothie. That's all I remember. So...ya. I might put a few more random stories in this, just little drabbles and stuff as time goes by. It depends on the little psycho things my otouto-chan and I come up with.

I want to offer special thanks to my otouto-chan, Saa-chan, for aiding in the creation of this drabble.

Words of Wisdom:

Playing old games, including ones from 1998 and 1989 have amazing imagination boosting results. However, in the case of the game from 1989, it becomes quickly tiring, as it has 768 levels, and no way to save progress.


	2. See

See

Edward Elric sat, fiddling with his gloves on that cool autumn morning. The sun had just poked its head over the horizon and begun to spill light over the hills and the sleeping town behind him. He'd been awake for hours now, unable to escape the haunting screams of what was supposed to be his revived mother. The horrible, gut-churning image had invaded his dreams for nearly a week now, and stalked him during the night hours. He had awoken screaming that morning, for the dream carried on farther than usual. He could hear the being's gasps for breath, desperately clinging to life, and could almost feel the pain as the realization of his missing leg hit him. The scar tissue hurt like hell that morning, right where his stump of a leg met the twisting metal that formed his replacement. After the throbbing ceased to be so fierce, he walked out onto the hill, deciding to get some fresh air.

It was two months ago that he decided to bring Alphonse to Resembool, back home. His little brother was finally in the flesh again, but Ed's limbs remained as before. He had given up more for the transmutation than he had cared to admit. He was blind now, and Alphonse led him nearly everywhere, and Edward had had to cling to his brother's shirt when boarding and unboarding the train. But here, around his hometown, everything was the same, and he could usually get around fairly well without help. It didn't bother him much, not being able to see. But he didn't like having to rely on Alphonse so much. He wanted Al to be able to enjoy his life, instead of hauling his big brother around all the time. Al told his Nii-san many times that he didn't mind it at all, but Ed still had his doubts. He felt like a hindrance to his brother's life, and he had voiced this concern to Winry, but she had merely scolded him for such thoughts.

So there he sat, staring into the abyss that was now his sight. He felt a gentle breeze brush lightly against his cheek, and set his automail hand against it, only to draw it quickly away. He gazed at where he thought his hand would be and scowled at it.

"What'd I do that for?" he asked the quiet morning. Behind him, he could start to hear the town begin to bustle. He could see in his mind's eye farmers and butchers rising from their beds and having breakfast with their families, and then going out to a long day's work.

Slowly, he lay down in the dew covered grass and felt the moisture cling to the exposed flesh of his left arm and shoulder and to his right leg. He wore a tight, navy blue tank top and his baby blue boxers. Alphonse had helped him dress, although Ed insisted numerous times that he did not require the help at all. His younger brother was right, though, and this was proven when Ed had tried to force the collar of the top to cover his midsection. This caused Al to giggle lightly, and the noise threw Ed into a silent fit, until he at last accepted his brother's assistance.

"It must be a nice day," Edward told his surroundings. "It's already warming up quite nicely and I can feel the sun strongly. That means there's not a lot of clouds."

"_Brother? Brother!" he heard Al's voice scream._

"_Huh? What? Al! Where are you?" Edward shouted frantically, searching._

"_Here! Hurry!"_

_Edward ran in the direction where he heard his brother's voice and searched through the rubble of the collapsed building, which had previously housed the woman known as Dante. Clasped tightly in his left hand, he held a single, blood red stone._

_Finally, he freed the armor that housed his brother's soul from the debris and pulled him out beyond the building, to prevent further danger. He held the stone toward his brother, the all-famous grin painted across his face._

"_It's all ours!" Edward declared gleefully. "Now we can bring you back to the way you're supposed to be."_

_Before Alphonse could protest that his Nii-san should bring back his own missing limbs first, the stone flashed, and before Edward knew what was happening, he stood before the Gate._

"_Give me back my brother's body," Edward demanded, his look becoming fierce._

_The door opened, and a light flashed, a deep voice being heard, saying 'equivalent exchange.'_

_The next thing Edward knew was a pair of frail arms shaking him frantically, and a voice desperately calling for him._

"_Nii-san! Nii-san!" _

_He opened his eyes, but saw nothing._

"_Al... Alphonse?" Ed managed weakly._

"_Nii-san! You're ok! Thank goodness!"_

_Ok? But he couldn't see anything!_

"_Al, where are you, anyway? Where are we?" he asked, afraid of the answer._

"_Nii-san, I'm holding you, we're still at Dante's. Can't you see the house?"_

_When Edward looked in every direction and then upwards again, towards Al, but not at him, Al's fears were confirmed._

"_You're blind," Al said shakily._

The next two weeks that passed were spent in a hospital, where Edward was properly diagnosed that he was blind. It became apparent to him that the Gate had still demanded equivalent exchange for his brother's body, and taken his sight. He couldn't figure out why that had been the case, he had had the Philosopher's Stone! It shouldn't have happened like this!

Slowly, though, he came to accept this new state that he was in, and spent as much time with Alphonse as he did before. They sat out in the evenings and watched as the sun disappeared behind the hills, and Al would describe the colors to him in the utmost detail, leaving the rest up to his brother's imagination. Now, the only time he saw anything was in his dreams, but he wished he were blind then, too. He was tired of the nightmares.

Suddenly, Edward heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and instantly, he smiled. He knew exactly who it was.

"Hey there, Alphonse," Edward said with that famous grin spreading onto his lips.

"Hello, Nii-san. What's wrong? Had that dream again?" Al asked meekly as he sat next to his brother.

"Yeah," Edward said, opening his eyes and facing the direction where Al's voice came from.

Al looked at his brother, and felt a rush of guilt run through him. His brother's eyes were dull, burnished amber now, instead of the vibrant gold they once were when they gazed upon their surroundings. And he had given this up so that he could have his body. He felt responsible.

"Auntie Pinako's making breakfast," Al said after a few minutes of staring into the dull hues.

"Alright, let's go get some food then. I'm hungry!" Ed complained, sitting upright and clumsily climbing to his feet.

"Nii-san, you are _always_ hungry," Al pointed out as he too stood, and took hold of his brother's arm.

And the two walked together, to the Rockbell home, their home, laughing and joking like they were kids. And as the sun began to rise high over the mountain tops, Edward could've sworn that he saw everything around him, if only for a minute. This sight brought a nostalgic smile to his lips. _This must be what Heaven would look like_, Edward thought. _If it ever existed.

* * *

_

Ok, So here's another random little story. I've been bored in Study Hall lately, and the school blocked my sources to learn more about what Alchemy was really like! How evil is that? Well Anyway, I haven't had much else time for writing. Gomen Nasai! I'll try to write more for you guys soon, I promise. But probably not much this weekend. A friend of mine is coming home from college for the weekend, so I'm excited about that. ANYWAY! I hope you enjoyed this rather serious and fluffy drabble. Until next time, Ja ne!

Words of Wisdom:  
If stranded on an island with talking palm trees, Envy would call them his brethren/sisteren. They, not knowing his gender, would call him their 'Itthren'.


	3. Torn

Torn

Envy was always known to be one of the more ruthless of the homunculi. He was also strong, agile, and quick-witted. Always ready with something to say, he was sharp-tongued as well. His words flowed out from between slender lips like venom from a snake, and somehow, his speeches, as short or long as they were, were always dark, menacing. He could stare into the eyes of the strongest soldier and force them to quiver with fear, and make children squeal in terror.

No one knew the real side of Envy. They didn't know how much hatred he really hid in his soul, even though they knew he hated Hohenheim Elric. They knew he hated Edward and Alphonse Elric, his sons, for carrying his blood. They didn't know just _how much_ he despised them, or his true relationship to the Light Alchemist.

Envy had been an innocent little kid, like any other, growing up. He liked to play and hated certain foods and, as most children, had a certain tendency for mischief. He would run outside in his bare feet and jump in mud puddles, despite the wishes of his mother, and climbed trees and tore the clothes she had worked so hard to tailor for him. But he was an intelligent little boy, and promised to be a great scholar and gentleman.

His mother would prepare wonderful clothes for him, and said that one day, he could be royalty. She remarked on how handsome he was, and how tall he was growing. It was like any other household on Earth. Except for one thing. His parents were alchemists. They sought what was known as the Philosopher's Stone, and his father stayed in his laboratory for days on end, most times not even coming out to eat. This caused concern in the young boy, and soon, he began to question his father's motives. His mother calmed these doubts, explaining that he was close to the truth.

Soon, the boy's eighteenth birthday came, and he had a small celebration. He had long since become a man, but now that he was eighteen, he had more of a say in things, and was more responsible. His mother and father kept telling him how proud they were, and gave him a beautifully crafted gold watch. He wore that watch every day, opening and closing it repeatedly to here the lovely music that played within it; a music machine built just behind the watch face. It was a song he knew well, as his mother had sung it to him time and time again when he was a boy and when he was ill.

Soon after his eighteenth birthday, his father began to close himself up in his laboratory even more. This worried the young boy, since whenever he _did_ see his father, he was a gaunt man, with eyes that constantly wandered astray. The lab door was always closed, whether he was in there or not, so when the one day that it _was_ open came to pass, the boy could not help but satisfy his curiosity.

He had slipped into the empty laboratory that rainy day, swift and silent as a cat, creeping on his tiptoes down the old wooden steps. Despite his being so careful, the creaking protest of the steps seemed to clamor throughout the room, threatening to betray him and announce his entry. However, he arrived to the bottom of the stairs and stood upon the cold cement floor without being seen and looked around at what stood before and around him. The walls and ceiling were of cement, just like the icy floor beneath his unprotected feet. All around him, on the surrounding him on all sides, were transmutation circles of many different sizes, and with thousands of different symbols and runes inscribed within their bounds. Some were drawn upon the wall with oil paints, ink, or what looked like blood. Others were carved into the stone, at some parts at least six inches deep.

To the left of him was a long desk, covered in papers and books, beakers and test tubes. To the right was a large bookcase, standing at about seven and a half feet tall and spanning over a distance across the floor of five feet. Each shelf was covered with books to its capacity. Directly in front of him and behind him on either side were shelves upon shelves of beakers, viles and bottles with labels scrawled upon small sheets of paper taped to them, filled with different chemicals.

Stepping over to the concealed top of the wooden structure, the boy peered over the books and papers, reading bits of words from them. Two words were mentioned over and over again; Philosopher's Stone. He had read about this mystical stone. It was fabled to be an all-powerful alchemical amplifier, which could ignore the principle known as 'Equivalent Exchange.' But why did his father want it? He couldn't be sure, but as he leaned closer to one of the books to read it better in the dim light provided only by a single lantern, he saw the silvery shine of a liquid in a bottle next to him. His attention diverted to it, he sidestepped so that he was standing directly in front of the bottle and stooped down so that it was at eye level with it.

The liquid shone with brilliancy unlike any he had seen before. He lifted the bottle and tipped it to the side and nearly gasped in amazement. The liquid moved all at once like a solid! He knew that common liquids moved so that some was left behind, and that it took the form of it's container, but this seemed to have a form of its own. Curious, he unstoppered the bottle and poured some of the liquid onto his hand. Instead of spilling into a slivery puddle, it shaped itself like a dome and ceased to move in his hand. Interested, he tilted his hand back and forth, watching not as the liquid spilled, but as it actually _rolled_ in his palm. A smile escaped his lips as he watched it with intrigue and he nearly didn't notice the voice upstairs.

"I'll be up for dinner tonight. What are we having?"

It was his father! Was he coming back to the lab? If he was, he'd kill him! Quickly, he put the mystery liquid back in its bottle and stoppered it again with the cork. Then he crept up the stairs and into his room, where he placed a hand over his racing heart, trying to control his breathing.

Several hours later, he started to feel funny, and soon after, he was bed ridden. A doctor came to visit the house, and diagnosed him with Mercury poisoning, saying also that there was nothing that he could do to stop it. He confessed to his father that he had went into his lab and played with some shiny liquid. His father shook his head and held him for a very long time.

The next thing that Envy knew was that he was on the floor of his father's laboratory, his old man leaning over him, a somber look painted onto his aged features.

"Father?" he asked quietly. He wanted to know what happened. Why did he feel better all of a sudden? Why was he leaner, with tight, dark clothing that barely qualified as decent? And his hair! Long dark green locks now replaced his golden hair.

"I'm not your father, and you're not my son. You are a homunculus. Your name is Envy."

Throughout the years that followed that night, Envy had become ruthless, and unfeeling towards mankind. He hated those beings, with their fragile souls, their love, and their desperate need for companionship. He needed none of that, and he didn't want any of it either. It would only hinder him, to have such feelings, and so he cut himself off from them, building a barricade of thick ice around his heart.

Sometimes though, he could be found on a ledge of a cave or on a hill or even on the limb of a tree. His arms would be placed upon slender legs, staring into the distance, with sometimes a nostalgic look upon his face. Other times, bitter tears would cascade down his pale cheeks. He never really knew why they appeared like that, but during that point, shivers and shudders would rack his entire thin frame, and he would cry out like a small child. But no one knew this side of Envy. He never showed it to anyone. If a poor and unfortunate traveler happened to walk in on him in this state, it was his last moment on Earth, and beautiful, bright crimson would nuture the ground below his feet. He could not afford to show anyone this side of him. He was ruthless. He cared about nothing and for no one! He didn't want or need love or care or anything. All he needed was his hatred and his strength. But somewhere inside, a child screamed. Envy was torn.

* * *

So this is Torn! Once again, it's Study Hall-based boredom, but I wanted to give Envy a little twist, kind of like in the Sins that Bind Us, but with more depth. SO I hope this is good, I haven't revised it yet. Gomen nasai! Anyway, I hope you like it. Please review, I'd love to hear what you guys think of my stories. 


	4. Skin Deep

Skin Deep

She was beautiful. There was no doubting it. Men tried to court her constantly, and women were made jealous, as their boyfriends came to her like lost puppies, asking for her hand. She turned them all down. Whether or not they were handsome or not didn't matter. Most of them had their strong suits; wealth, looks, personality. It never mattered. It was no use trying to get someone to realize love, when they felt nothing for anyone. Ever.

It had to be a sin to be loved so much, to have one's beauty adored and envied by so many, and yet feel no pride. It had to be a sin to be the one that shadowed countless men's hearts with lust.

And indeed, Lust was just that, with flowing black hair that fell well past her shoulders and a dress that crept its way around her slender, feminine figure and to her ankles. Dark lipstick painted her thin lips and brought color to her otherwise pale face. Yet she felt nothing but contempt for her appearance, which could melt the ice around nearly any man's heart. It was the blood red symbol tattooed just above her breast that told everything about her. Her world, her entire existence, was filled with blood, and the pain caused to extract it.

A single thought plagued her almost daily. Who am I, and where am I going? She almost never said this aloud, but the idea was always there, taunting. She would often stare out of a window, into the distance, where a voice asked her that mercilessly, never backing off. One time when the words had escaped her lips, Envy told her it was a stupid thought. She never spoke of it again.

And so the days went by, and men came to her as suitors and tried to court her in every way they could imagine. But she had no interest in any of it. All she was concerned about was finally getting the Philosopher's Stone, so that she could do the one thing she'd wanted for years. She wanted the Stone so that she could die.

In a way, it hurt to have all the men after her like lost puppies. She could not love them back. She could feel nothing towards them. And yet….

There was always a nagging vision that came to her now and again, amidst the taunting of the voice in the back of her mind and the screams of those she put to their untimely rest. In these visions, there was a man, leaning over a bed, sobbing, praying. He kept asking someone named Ishbala to, 'Save her, just please save her.' And in the bed was a woman, her skin color the same as the man's, and she held weakly onto his hand, and watched as he prayed, tears coming to her eyes. The man would hold the woman now and again, and whisper pleading words into her ear. Lust could not comprehend them. What startled her most was that the woman that the man prayed for and held, had long flowing black hair, and a face that was strangely alike to her own. But that could not be true at all! She did not have memories, so this woman could not be her! And yet, whenever this scene danced in front of her eyes in a sad waltz, there was a sort of pain that throbbed in her chest, where her heart was, where it beat because of the energy of the incomplete Philosopher's Stones that gave her life.

No one knew that she wished only for death. They never knew that she hated this cursed existence with her entire being, hated being a puppet for a person who controlled her from the sidelines. She did not want this to be her fate. She'd have rather remain in the realm of nonexistence, rather than live on this lie. She was not a person, not human. She had no attachments to anything, material or living. And she had no real purpose for moving about the earth like a ghost. Indeed, it felt like she was a ghost sometimes. In the eyes of women, she would be a terror, the kind of things that haunted their nightmares, as it drew their men astray. For men, she was just an illusion, a fleeting specter, seen only for an instant in time, even if that instant lasted for days, or weeks. Time was no longer tangible. She did not know what day it was, and never bothered to pay much attention to the year. She knew the ages of people sometimes, but events had time. She could discern how long ago it was that she had killed someone she had felt particularly close to, even if that closeness was a distant one. She took those moments and committed them to her unreliable memory. They filled her with an inescapable sorrow, though.

Yet, still, no matter how she pushed men away, they still came back to her, and her presence shattered relationships and cancelled weddings. Countless men proclaimed her beauty to those around them, but they did not see the blackness and torment that lay just beyond the service. After all, her beauty was just skin deep.


	5. Holy

HOLY

Religion is something that is supposed to provide hope for those who need it, and to bring smiles to the people who are broken. But for sixteen year-old Edward Elric, that was just a load of crap, a bedtime story your parents told you at night. He refused to believe in a higher being that was supposed to make everything better when things seemed hard. He had stopped believing years ago, when his mother died.

The peoples' God was supposed to take care of the people of the earth, and allow for happiness, and conquer all evil. So then, why was it that the so very esteemed God took his mother away? What did she ever do to deserve it? She'd been a wonderful woman, kind and loving, and she never spoke a harsh word to her sons. She even endured all those years after their father, her husband, had left them, always with a smile upon her face. She was the perfect woman. No matter what, she remained faithful to her duties as a wife and a mother. In the eyes of religious followers, she should have been secured a long, happy life.

That didn't last long. Her sickness was a sign that all that religious bull was just that. The peoples' God took Edward's mother away from him! Away from Alphonse! How could someone who was supposed to be so kind do such a horrible thing, and then not make it right in any way? The truth was, there was no God, and if there was, He was nothing like the people esteemed Him to be.

Constantly during their journey, Edward and Alphonse came upon many people who called to their God for help, to make things better, and that prayer was never answered. If anything, things were made worse. So, Edward asked himself, what good was it to pray to a being that did nothing for the people but sit back in his chair in contempt and watch the pathetic humans go about their own destruction? The thought of people going on religious crusades or doing something in the name of their God made him ill; they were just throwing their lives away for nothing!

As a result, Edward's God was himself. He knew that only _he_ could make things happen, or make thing better. And if things got worse, then he could only blame himself. His religious scriptures were in the form of Alchemy books, and transmutation circles became his icons. He refused to let anyone, especially some being he could not even see, control his life.

He often heard that people who didn't believe in God and didn't serve Him went to Hell when they died. He chuckled at the thought. Fine! Let him burn for eternity! At least, with his Alchemy, he'd have spent a meaningful life helping people, instead of spending in servitude of someone who rewarded him with nothing other than pain.

He was also told that sinners went to Hell if they did not beg for forgiveness. With this, he was fine, as he felt that he could not be forgiven for his sins. However, he was not satisfied with just sitting back and watching while his brother suffered as a soulless suit of armour. And, while his sins could not be forgiven, he worked hard to make things right, because he couldn't bear to see Al like that day after day, without feeling a stabbing pain in his heart.

And so he lived, day by day, trying to right his wrongs, and doing everything according to his own doctrines, not that of the peoples'. Let them have their God. He had his Alchemy, and his brother, and to him, that was all that was holy.


	6. Moonlit Dream

Moonlit Dream

She had often spent many nights out here when it was like this. The moon washed over her pale face as the crickets chirped their summer song. It was so peaceful, and she wanted this to go on forever, so that she could forget the harsh reality of everything.

Morning would come soon. The evidence was in the cold, sticky dew that clung to her nightgown and feet. The air was slightly chilled, and a breeze brushed by her and caressed her cheek. It caused her to shiver a little, although she was not so sure why. Quietly, she sat on the step of the back porch and spread her legs out over the grass, swishing them to and fro lightly. She gave a sigh; soon her husband would be awake, and the day would begin anew, the pains that lay in her heart coming once again to the surface to tear at her soul.

Izumi Curtis blamed herself for nearly everything bad that happened to the people she cared for. The death of her baby, the loss of her lower organs, her inability to have children ever again; they were all her fault. Her husband, Shigu, never acknowledged her constant apologies with anything more than a nod. She knew he didn't blame her, but she was also aware that he was hurting, too.

"_I do," she said, the bright pink lipstick glowing on her delicate lips as the sun shone through the cathedral windows. _

_And, before she knew what was happening, the strong-but-gentle Shigu had her in his arms and guided her face upwards in a kiss so very passionate, the angels had never seen anything of the sort. She threw her arms around him and returned the kiss, tears coming briefly to her eyes._

_After the reception, he had carried her home, which was off of his business; a butcher shop. She didn't mind his line of work at all, even though she really did love animals. She loved her Shigu more, and her compassion for him drowned out the regret she had of knowing her husband was a butcher._

_As he carried her through the threshold of the house, she was laughing, a sound as sweet as a songbird's call, and a smile was upon her face that Heaven would have envied. She became settled quickly, and life seemed so perfect. She had everything she could ever want, and that everything, her entire world, was her Shigu._

_The months went by and she found herself pregnant with their first child. The couple was ecstatic to learn the news, and began to plan immediately for the new addition to their family. They bought clothes and supplies with money they saved from week to week, and set aside a room that would become the nursery. _

_Her happiness faded away on the day when she lost her baby. There had been minor complications throughout the pregnancy, but nothing she nor Shigu thought to be too serious. Things were worse than she thought; her baby had been stillborn. She became destitute for many days, but then, she had a plan. She was a skilled alchemist. She could bring her baby to life!_

_She ignored every warning sign, including the harsh words from her teacher against such an action. But she knew nothing else she could do. She and Shigu had been so happy, and now, they lived in sorrow. She had been so excited, and she knew he had been too, and when he found out that the baby had died before he had even obtained life, the life in his eyes had faded away._

_She felt like it was her fault. Yes, she had killed the baby! And so, to make up for it, she attempted Human Transmutation, the taboo, the forbidden art. She thought there wasn't much more she could lose, especially if she did it on her own. But she was wrong; the transmutation took away her organs in exchange for the baby's life, but it was not her baby, it wasn't even human. And so she sent it to the Gate, the very thing that had taken her organs and her health away._

Soon after, the light in Izumi's eyes died away, became secluded in a place Shigu could not reach, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted so desperately to share her pain, make it known that she was not alone, but she would not allow it. She didn't want him to suffer for her mistakes. For this, and everything else, she apologized to him.

Sometimes, she wished that she could have a child, and make her husband happy. She didn't know if he was disappointed in her for the incident and the loss of their child; he never voiced so, nor did he ever say that he wasn't. He avoided the subject as best he could. But, even if she wished for a child now, she knew it would never come true. It was, after all, just a dream.


	7. Remember

Remember

"Do you remember?" the voice asked him gently. He could feel the hand caress his cheek in a way he recalled more than he ever wanted to.

"No, I don't remember. And I don't care," he replied defiantly, brushing the hand away. As soon as it was removed from his face, however, he felt a strange longing for its presence again.

" I think you do, in fact, I know you do. You're just afraid to admit it, aren't you?" the voice pressed, and the arms flew around him in a gentle embrace before he could understand what was happening.

"No!" his body tensed at the touch, and he desperately tried to get free, but the hold on him was too great. No, maybe he was too weak to fend off this feeling that welled within him. The longing for the care and gentleness of a family, of people that loved him. He fell limp in the person's arms.

"There there. I know. It's going to be alright," the person said as they stroked his hair. "Life's not fair at all, is it? You'll get what you want one day soon. I promise."

Envy stormed out of the mansion with shaking fists hanging at his sides and sweat dripping down his brow. He found Lust and Gluttony leaning against the trees just outside the courtyard. Gluttony, the giant bowling ball of a beast he was, sat against the trunk of an old tree, looking hungry as always, finger stuck between his lips like an infant. Lust stood patiently against a fairly young specimen, arms crossed across her chest. Her eyes were shut and a contented smile painted itself across her lips. Hearing Envy's footsteps, she opened her eyes and turned her tantalizing gaze towards him.

"Hmmm, looks like Envy's done playing with Mommy," she said in a mocking

tone.

"Shut up," Envy spat, walking past them, into the woods. Lust and Gluttony followed close behind.

"She seems to call for you a lot more often lately," Lust commented, a thoughtful finger to her chin.

"Shut up," Envy repeated, acidly.

"I wonder why that is?" Lust continued, ignoring his demand.

"I said shut up!" he screamed. He turned to face her and glared at her, his amethyst eyes glowing with fire. She merely stared at him, amused.

The three walked the rest of the way in silence. Envy stayed far ahead of them while Lust and Gluttony walked behind in silence. Lust couldn't help but smirk at the anger of her cohort.

The next day was the same thing. _That person_ sent for Envy again and when he received the news that morning, he punched the wall in frustration.

"Dammit!" he thundered. "I don't want to go see her again!"

"It's not like it's really your choice anyway," Lust droned. "When she asks to see us, we have to go see her and you know it. She did give us the life of the stones, after all."

Gritting his teeth, he stood up straight and walked out the door of their current hideout, towards the home of _that person_ once again.

Every time he went to see _that person_, he had to wait for nearly an hour for her to prepare herself, or so she informed him. She would open the door, welcome him in with that same sly smile she always had when encountering him. Then she would seat him in the library with a book and tell him she would be down in a moment, claiming she had to, 'freshen up.' He would sit with his legs folded upon the chair and the book set upon his lap, and he would glare across the room, waiting.

This time was different. Today, she wore an elaborate gown and the same perfume she always wore, the one that made him angry, since it reminded him of a certain someone. Today, she welcomed him and brought him into the dining room, where she bid him sit. They had tea and cakes together, and although he didn't need food, he consumed what was placed in front of him. A nostalgic feeling washed over him then, and he sighed. She noticed his attitude and inquired about it, but he ignored her question, staring out the window instead.

When tea time was done, they went into the library, as they always did and he sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. The flames crackled with an almost tantalizing tone, as though it were mocking him. He glared into the orange glow, and barely noticed when she sat behind him and began to play with his hair. When he did notice, he grunted in annoyance.

"Oh, what's the matter?" she crooned close to his ear. "You used to love this."

"I _hate_ it when you play with my hair," Envy said with a scowl.

"Can't a mother play with her own son's--,"

"I'm not your son!" he screamed, interrupting her and nearly standing from his spot on the floor.

"Yes, you are. You always have been and you always will be. You can't escape that," she said threateningly.

With that, Envy stood and stormed out of the mansion and into the woods, ignoring Lust's voice as she called out his name.

Envy wandered through the trees, weaving between trunks and low lying branches. Sometimes, he punched a tree in frustration, or mumbled under his breath. The rage that was now engulfing him seemed bigger than he could ever imagine; something he couldn't take control of.

"Dammit! I'm not her son. I'm _not!_" he screamed.

After a while, he came upon a lake and sat by it, gazing into the water. It lay calm and inert most of the time, but when a breeze whispered through the trees and into the clearing in which he sat, the water formed little ripples upon itself and followed the wind in a little game of 'Follow the Leader.' He gazed at his reflection, watching it as it became distorted when the little wind blew past him.

For more than four hundred years now, he had been doing everything that was expected of him, changing his appearance and lying to people so that _that person_ could get what she wanted. Thinking about it now, he wondered why he continued to do so for so long. Why did he proceed to lie to so many people? He sighed and figured that it was because, in all truth, he wasn't just lying to the humans. He was also lying to himself. He let himself think that he was that person into whom he transformed. He allowed his mind to believe that he had their life, their family, their feelings. But that wasn't true. And whenever he returned to his chosen form, he was reminded of the reality of what he really was. He was only a tool. He recalled her words.

"_You can't escape that._"

No, maybe he couldn't escape that truth. He couldn't ignore that he was her son. He couldn't deny that, no. And he _did_ remember. He remembered everything well. His childhood, his life as a young adult. His death. He recalled his rebirth and what happened after very clearly. He could tell the last four hundred or so years to a child in the utmost detail, and they would think it an elaborate fairy tale. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't escape the truth. He would always remember everything.


	8. Cry

Cry

It was said that sometimes, it's important to just have a good, long cry and let it all go. There were times that he wanted so desperately to believe that, and so, he often reflected on that line, when times seemed harsh and rough. He found it very ironic though. It was impossible for him to cry. Even if he wanted to so badly that it hurt, he could not cry. He did not have eyes through which to the let tears flow. He did not have a mouth that allowed him to cry out in pain. He could not show what he felt. He was empty inside.

* * *

"Al!" called the voice from behind him. It jarred him from his thoughts, and caused him to turn in the direction of the person he knew so well.

The voice belonged to none other than his brother, Edward Elric. The sun that shone in the early winter afternoon bounced off of Edward's golden hair, and glittered a brilliant reflection from his equally golden eyes. He was dressed all in black, as usual, save for his white gloves and vibrant red coat. A light breeze blew past him, trying to take his coat and golden locks with it, and the young boy shivered, clasping the open ends of his red coat together to futilely protect himself from the cold. The golden eyes looked up at him, expectant and waiting.

"Are you coming, Al?" Edward asked, his voice becoming a little gruff. After speaking, he let loose a few rough coughs, causing Al to rush to him, placing one arm on either side of him.

"Are you ok, Nii-san?" Alphonse asked.

"Yeah, looks like I just have a small cold, though," he said when the fit had subsided.

"We should get you to an inn or something then, before it gets worse."

Edward agreed without much of a fuss and the two continued to walk along the frozen path that lay before them, leading to a town that had been their target for the past week. Rumour had it that Scar had withdrawn into a snow village in the northern mountains. Just the fact that Scar was involved had decided for Edward, but when the rumour continued to say that he either had a complete Philosopher's Stone, or had access to it, the young blonde-haired teen had practically raced out the door, ready to go, although he was only in his black tank top. Alphonse had had to catch him and point out that they needed their things before they left, and after a minute, he calmed and became rational again. However, the train did not lead all the way to the town, and Alphonse and his brother had to result to walking the rest of the way.

Before long, the two boys had reached the town that was their destination, and found an inn. Edward decided that it was a good idea to not tell them that he was a State Alchemist, seeing as such proclamations had gotten them kicked out of their fair share of lodgings. Once they were in their room, Al told his brother to go to sleep and rest, to prevent his cold from worsening. Scar could wait a night or so.

When Ed was comfortably in bed and resting, Al relaxed a little. He sat on his bed, a book written on Alchemy, which they had borrowed from the library, was on his lap. He opened it up and attempted to read it, but he couldn't hold his concentration on the words for very long. He kept glancing at Edward, who was snoring by now. Every now and again, the blonde-haired chibi would be racked by more rough coughs, his body nearly convulsing with their ferocity. Alphonse became terribly worried, but he was no doctor; there was really nothing that he could do. He had to keep himself from rushing to him and checking to see if he was ok or darting out the door and calling for a doctor. Edward had told him earlier that calling a doctor was out of the question. Truth was, the young alchemist hated doctors. Al wasn't quite so sure of the reason why, but he thought it had something to with the fact that the doctors could not save their mother.

"Nii-san, just how long have you been sick?" Al asked the dark room as Edward coughed again. "It'd better not be for a really long time and you just didn't tell me."

Of course, he received no answer, and he sighed and tried once again to focus on the book, but to no avail. His gaze once again returned to Edward, and he stared at him for a long moment.

"Nii-san, you're such a strong person," he said to his sleeping brother. "After what happened to Nina and Barry the Chopper, I don't think I've ever seen you crying. Not once. Even after Lab 5, or when we saw Dad again, or when you learned about Mr. Hughes. Or, perhaps you have cried, maybe a whole lot, but you just won't let me see. You didn't even cry that much when Mom died. I cried the most, and you stared at her grave, scheming to bring her back. I didn't see you cry during the surgery to get your automail, or even while you were bleeding on the floor of the basement, after the transmutation. For dealing with everything like this and still being able to smile, you are a strong person, Nii-san.

"But it's ok to cry, too. I think you should know that. Even though you're strong, you claim you're not strong enough, because people close to you still get hurt. But... Nii-san... being strong also means that you have the strength to cry when it's right. I may seem very indifferent to some things, but it hurts me too, you know? I just... I can't show it. So, I have no choice but to hold it in, but you don't have to on my account, Nii-san. I hope you know that."

* * *

The next day, it was off to find Scar. Alphonse argued that his brother should continue to rest, but Ed claimed that he was feeling much better. Al watched him during breakfast and whilst he was dressing and braiding his hair, trying to catch him coughing badly, so that he had a plausible argument to convince his brother, but that time came only once. When Al pointed out that his Nii-san was still quite sick after the coughing fit subsided, Edward said that it wasn't a big deal, saying that was the first time all day. The argument lasted until it was time to leave, and at long last, Al gave in and the two ventured back out into the snowy world, in search of Scar.

It wasn't difficult to find the place where Scar had supposedly been staying. It was a shabby little hotel, with part of the roof blowing off in the fierce winter wind and one of the windows broken on the side. When they asked about the scarred man, they directed them to a room on the second floor of the three story building.

When knocking provided no answer from the rumoured occupant of the room, they twisted the doorknob to find it unlocked and opened the door. The room was empty. The bed was made up as though it had remained unused throughout the night. The only sign that someone had been in there was a little mud on the wooden floors that protested every movement with an angry groan and a small box on the night stand.

Edward's gaze was held fast onto the little box. It really wasn't that extravagantly decorated, but it was very noticeable. The exterior was probably wooden, but it was covered in a red cloth. The edges were lined with bronze, the lining engraved with images that were obviously carved with great care. It was latched tight, much to Edward's disappointment, and when he tried to pick the lock, it proved to have little success. At long last, he concluded that the box was either sealed shut with Alchemy, or some other means. Frustrated, the young alchemist slapped his hands together and placed them on the box, forcing it open. Inside was a small, red stone, glowing in what little light poured in from the window, by the small amount of sunlight that graced the world on such a cloudy day.

"Is this really it?" Edward said aloud, more to himself than anyone. Alphonse, who had been standing guard, stepped in and looked at the little red stone.

"Yes it is, and for seeing it, you must die now," declared Scar's voice from behind Alphonse.

The younger Elric gasped in surprise. How could Scar have gotten behind him so quickly? He had only glanced away for a second, attracted to the light of the stone, and now, the infamous State Alchemist killer was directly behind him, a dangerous scowl etched across his features.

Alphonse dodged just Scar flew past him, his right arm outstretched towards his brother, ignoring the young boy who had been standing guard moments before. Either Scar was unconcerned with Alphonse at the moment, or he was so full of hatred for Edward for finding the Stone and trying to take it away that he was focused purely on the blonde chibi.

Edward would not be taken by surprise so easily, however, and swiftly dodged the first attack, grabbing the Stone whilst doing so. This angered Scar even more, and he attacked a second time, screaming in rage. Alphonse grabbed his arm this time, topping the man, who growled at him in response. The man struggled to free himself, but found that the grip was almost uncharacteristically tight, and was unable to do so.

"I will not let you hurt Nii-san anymore," Alphonse declared, tightening his grip. "Moreover, I won't stand idly by and do nothing whilst you try to kill him."

For a long moment, it seemed as though Scar was stuck, and could nothing. After all, his weapon was being held by a vise-like grip, and he couldn't very well move it, and to the knowledge of the boys, he possessed little to no hand-to-hand combat prowess. However, the assumption was wrong, and Scar whirled around and kicked off the head off the armour. This did not faze the child, however, and he continued to hold fast to the man's arm. He nodded to his brother, who nodded in return and jumped out the window. Scar growled again, and tried to pull himself away once more, but once again, the attempt was in vain. He succeeded only in popping the joint from its socket.

"Kuso," he grumbled, clutching his arm. "You're just going to take it and run away then?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. But we've needed the Stone for a very long time now," Alphonse replied, before he followed his brother, who was waiting for him just below.

"Hurry up, Al!" he called, stepping back to allow his otouto-chan room to land.

Alphonse nodded and leapt from the window, landing a few feet away from Edward with a _thud!_ With another nod of agreement from the brothers, they sped away as fast as their legs would carry them through the dense snow.

* * *

Before Alphonse knew where he was, and had the time to take in everything that had just happened, he and his brother were in the woods outside of the little snowy town. Edward was breathing heavily, and it was only at Al's insistence that he had ceased from running to catch his breath.

"You're sick," Al said quietly, taking a step towards his brother. "And you shouldn't strain yourself even more."

"I'm ok," Edward said sternly. Nevertheless, he leaned against a small tree and slunk down its trunk, seating himself in the cold, wet snow.

Alphonse stood there, watching his brother carefully, and then stood, leaning against a tree as well, as though he too, were worn out from the run.

"So...now what?" Alphonse asked.

Edward only sighed and opened his left palm, revealing the small, blood red stone.

"Everything we've worked for for all these years. All the crap we've had to go through... everything we've seen. It was all for this. Just a little red stone," Edward said quietly, his eyes narrowing as though it pained him greatly just to speak the truth of everything that had happened so long, and yet not so long ago.

"I wonder how Scar-san got the Stone in the first place," Alphonse wondered aloud.

"That's not important," Edward said, standing. He took a step towards his brother, a wavering version of his all famous smile clinging almost desperately to his young features. "What's important now is that we have it, and we can use it to get you back to normal."

The next thing Alphonse remembered was a bright flash of red light. It was so intense, it illuminated the entire forest around him, and threatened to blind him, had he not shielded his eyes. And then, there was darkness. And cold. Yes, it was so very cold. And then, a voice. It seemed so distant, he strained to hear it, and slowly opened his eyes. He was still in the forest. His gaze was met with wide and golden fear, and he realized that frightful orbs that stared back at him belonged to his brother. Slowly, he sat up and looked around, then to his legs, his arms, and then back to his brother. He watched as the dam broke in his Nii-san, and tears flowed freely from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. He looked again at himself, or rather, what he could see of himself. He did not see harsh, cold metal limbs, an unfeeling body that concealed his every emotion. No, he saw flesh, and he felt the cold air and the frigidness of the snow as it touched his delicate skin. It was then that he realized that he once again had the body he could no longer remember; the one thing that he and his brother had endured so much for.

Once again, the old saying came back to him, and he gave a soft smile. He felt all the restraints give way within himself, and he embraced his brother, and did the one thing he could not for many many long years. He cried.

* * *

So...This story took a lot longer than I had expected it to...which is a bad thing, coz I usually like to write these really fast so I can move on to everything else. But I've been so busy lately! SO I haven't really had any ANY time to write at all, which is kinda a bad thing for me, coz all my ideas just go away...and whatnot stuff. Soo...! Yep. I hope you enjoyed this story...It was kinda a spur of the moment kinda thing when I wrote it, and I think I was just in one of my moods...but I really don't remember anymore, so...yeah. But anyway...I really hope you enjoyed it! And for those of you who are waiting for chapter 34 of The Sins That Bind Us, I ask that you be patient...there's a lot going on, and I don't know how much writing time I'll have in the future. In any case. Until next time, Ja ne!


	9. Welcome Home

Welcome Home

"Equivalent Exchange does not exist," he said sternly.

"What!" screamed the young boy who was sitting reluctantly across from him.

"That can't be true," the other boy's voice echoed from next to the first boy.

He closed his eyes and nodded, ignoring the boys' protests. The sun reflected off of his oval spectacles as well as his hair, which was much like the colour of unrefined gold.

"Is that all you came here to tell us?" the first boy asked, crossing his arms as he had when he had first seated himself at the table. The sun shone off his own golden hair as well, but the colour of his locks was much more vibrant than that of the elder man across from him.

"No, it's not, but it's one of the most important things. Now please, listen to me. In all reality, Equivalent Exchange is a false concept. Edward, you've seen the Gate, have you not?"

"How did you know that? I didn't say anything about it to you!" Edward screamed, slamming his hands on the table, on the verge of standing.

"You can perform Alchemy without a circle," the man said, indicating the boy's hands.

Edward calmed and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest again.

"Yeah, and what of it, Hohenheim of Light?" Edward asked angrily.

"Ed! You shouldn't refer to him like that. He's our da– "

"He's not our dad! He ditched us! He let Mom die! It's all his fault, and I _won't_ call him 'Dad'!"

The person to whom Edward had directed his rage was none other than his younger brother, Alphonse Elric. The young boy whose soul was attached to the armour held silent for a moment, before focusing on his father again, who showed no reaction to the exchange.

"In any case, Dad, what did you mean about Nii-san seeing the Gate?"

"Well, if you think I'm wrong, then you obviously did not see the whole truth, Edward."

"The 'whole truth'?"

"Yes," Hohenheim said pushing up his glasses. "If you had seen the whole truth, you'd know that Equivalent Exchange is a term we use to justify our gains. But in reality, the sacrifice is often larger than our gain."

"What do you mean?" Edward asked, leaning forward only a little, as though he did not think he properly heard his father.

"Think about it. You had to take the State Alchemist exam before they admitted you, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Everyone had to."

"Right. Now, how many hours did you spend studying for the exam?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe two months or something. Why?"

"How long do you think all the other people all studied?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, take a guess."

"I suppose it depends on the dedication and determination of that person, now doesn't it?" Edward replied angrily.

Hohenheim cleared his throat.

"Fair enough, Edward. Alright, I'll make up some numbers for you. A majority of the people who took the exam spent at least four or five months studying, day after day, and they often went without sleep for several days so that they could proceed in their studies and practice their skills. In other words, most people studied a lot longer and harder than you did. However, you were the only one who passed the exam. A justified gain for your sacrifice, right?"

"Yeah, of course it is! I worked my ass off for that test!" Edward said angrily. He had no idea where this man was going with this.

"So what about everyone else?"

"What?"

"What was the gain of everyone who didn't pass? Surely they must have gained something for their sacrifice."

"Of course they did! They gained a lot of knowledge from studying and honed their skills as alchemists."

"Was it equal?"

"What do you mean 'Was it equal?'"

"Well, if you got to become a State Alchemist for studying for only two months, then shouldn't those who studied more and worked harder than you receive something of higher value?"

Edward fumbled for words, his mouth moving with the form of incoherent words. After a moment or so of failing to find the words he so desperately desired, he ended his search and resulted to glaring at Hohenheim, waiting for the answer.

"Their sacrifice was far more than their gain, Edward," Hohenheim supplied with a small sigh as he sipped the tea provided to him by Winry. "They spent so long studying in the hopes of passing and becoming a State Alchemist. But you were the only one who passed. All in all, once someone receives the greatest gain for the price, those who sacrificed for the same gain only receive on a lower and often descending scale. After all, what is knowledge and skill if they cannot put to use in the purpose intended?"

Edward stumbled in his mind for a response for a moment, and looked as though he would leap over the table and strangle the man out of anger. He probably would have had the chance too, if Alphonse hadn't spoken up, distracting his brother from his frustration.

"So then Dad, what else did you have to tell us?" Alphonse asked anxiously.

"I learned a lot of things over these many years," Hohenheim said quietly, closing his eyes as though in reverence of those years.

"Well, you sure had the time to learn enough. After all, you didn't have to take care of a family," Edward spat hatefully.

"Nii-san!" Alphonse gasped.

"No, no Alphonse, it's alright. I suppose I deserve that. And that's part of the reason I came here."

"So that I could hate you for everything in person? Is that supposed to make me feel any better about all this?" Edward demanded.

"No. I came here to apologize for leaving you and your mother."

"Apologize! You think that's going to make it any better! Sorry isn't enough for what we've been through!"

"Maybe it's not. In fact, I'm sure it's not. But I truly am sorry Edward, Alphonse. I can only hope you believe me. I know that I can never make it up to you. I know I can never repay you for what you've lost. But I can help you and make sure you never have to find out the cost of a life again."

"The cost of a life?" Alphonse whispered, afraid to know the answer.

"Yes. One can never come up with the proper price for a life. Not another life. Not a body and a limb or two. Nothing can ever be equivalent to a life. Of course, you know that already."

Both boys were silent. Alphonse watched his father quietly, and was glad for once that he didn't have a face with which to express his feelings, because he surely would have been crying now. He glanced quickly to Edward, who was staring at the wooden planks that made up the Rockbell porch. There was regret, pain and anger in his eyes. Alphonse wanted desperately to comfort his brother, but did not move, for fear that his touch would shatter the so seemingly fragile body and soul next to him.

"And so I came here to ask that you accept my help, both as a friend and... and a father," Hohenheim offered in a tone that reflected the shame and apology that he claimed to have.

"We don't need you!" Edward screamed, standing and slamming his hands on the table with such force that all the tea cups jumped and crashed again to the table. Hohenheim's cup landed on its side on the wooden surface and rolled off the table, where it shattered into little pieces. "Mom waited for you for years! She _died_ waiting for you! She loved you, and you just up and left us, like having a family was too inconvenient for you! She _loved_ you, dammit! She would have waited for you forever, but it didn't matter to you, did it! I doubt you even loved her!"

With that, Edward pushed away from the table, jumped down the steps of the porch and ran off into the distance, disappearing over the hill.

"Nii-san!" Alphonse said, standing in response, holding out his hand as though by doing so, he could grab hold of his brother's arm and draw him back. He sighed lightly, the helplessness of his position setting in on him now.

"I did love her," Hohenheim whispered.

Alphonse turned to his father, gasping both to hear his voice so suddenly, and because of what he said. Slowly, he sat down and looked at his father with what would be expectancy, if he had the face to express it.

"I loved her," Hohenheim repeated softly. His eyes were focused on the spilled tea on the table. "I loved her more than anything, and even after I left, I could think of nothing but her and you boys.

"But I had to leave. Neither of you may quite understand why, and I won't blame you if you don't believe me. But... I was forced to. If I had had the choice, I would have never left you, and I would have stayed here with all of you, and then none of this would have ever happened to you two."

"Can you tell me why you left?" Alphonse asked quietly.

Hohenheim thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I can't. I'm sorry. You and Edward can hate me for that, too. But just know that I did leave for a reason that was not in my control."

Alphonse remained silent for a moment and then leaned forward slightly.

"I don't hate you, Dad."

Hohenheim looked at his son with a look of disbelief in his eyes.

"I mean sure, I'm rather angry that you just left without telling us why, that you never came back, even when Mom died, and that you never even tried to contact us, even though you must have known everything that happened. But I mean... you're my dad, and I have to believe that you had a good reason for everything you did. Plus, I'm just happy that I finally got to meet you. I was too young to remember you, and all I had was the picture that Mom kept. I could only imagine what you would sound like, or how you would look when you laughed. The fact that now, I can finally know those things makes me really happy.

"Nii-san just can't deal with it right now. He's really confused. For all these years, he was so angry that you left, even when we were little. But I bet that, even now, he had always hoped, somewhere in his mind, that you would come back. But he's put so many burdens on himself that he can't deal with his emotions so easily. In fact, I haven't seen him cry for at least three or four years now. I'm sure he's wanted to, and maybe he has, at night when he's supposed to be sleeping, but I've never once seen him cry since the incident with Barry the Chopper when he first got his certification as a State Alchemist.

"Sometimes, I wonder if he burdens himself so much not just because he feels like it's his duty, but because he doesn't want to have the time to think about some of those things and let them get to him."

Hohenheim nodded, but didn't say anything. It was as though he was absorbing everything Alphonse told him piece by piece. Before either of them could say anything else, Pinako stepped out onto the porch and announced that lunch was ready. The two of them stood up and went inside. Before going in, however, Alphonse picked up the pieces of the broken cup and the one that hadn't broken. He glanced over his shoulder for his brother before going inside.

* * *

Edward didn't return until late that night, not long before everyone went to bed. He quietly opened the door and slipped inside, holding his boots, which he had removed before stepping in. He placed his boots next to the door and began to walk towards the stairs when Pinako's voice stopped him.

"Welcome back," she said in a tone that showed no indication that she knew what had happened, although Edward was sure that she knew everything.

"Yeah," Edward mumbled.

"We left your dinner on the table. Just heat it up, alright?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You can't just _not_ eat anything all day."

"I did eat today. I ate breakfast."

"That's not good enough."

"It doesn't matter. I said I'm not hungry."

Edward hadn't looked at Pinako the whole time, and now when he went to take a step to go upstairs again, his arm was caught by the old woman and he was pulled down to face her.

"When are you going to stop throwing a temper tantrum and face the issue like a man?" she demanded, glaring in his golden eyes.

Edward only stared at her, his eyes wide with surprise and fear, but he made no attempt to pull away.

"I can understand that you're angry with your father for leaving you and not being there for you when you needed him the most, but running away from it isn't going to help you deal with it any better. You have to come to terms with it, or it'll never go away. You'll hold that hatred for the rest of your life, and one day, that hatred will hinder your judgement. Then what? What if, because of that, something happens to you, and Al loses you too?"

"I...I don't know," Edward admitted.

"The point is, he would be all alone. And he could lose the will to live. Edward, if you really plan on getting Al's body back, you have to prioritize. That means that you have to get past your issue with your father. And he _is_ your father, whether you like it or not."

Edward was silent for a long moment, and then his golden hues narrowed. He then pulled away from her and started for the stairs again.

"Edward!" Pinako called after him.

"I can hate him all I want! And I _will_ get Al's body back! No matter what it takes!"

With that, Edward ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his and Al's bedroom.

Hohenheim stepped behind the dumbstruck Pinako and placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him to find a soft, sorrowful smile on his face.

"I'll go talk to him," he said quietly.

"Are you sure you want to do that? He might try to attack you out of anger, after all."

"I'll be alright," he assured her. Then he released her shoulder and walked slowly and quietly up the stairs, just as Alphonse walked onto the scene, staring after his father.

* * *

When Hohenheim knocked on the bedroom door, he received no response.

"Edward?" he asked, knocking again. Once again, he heard nothing. He turned the knob. "Edward, I'm coming in."

Stepping into the room, he was greeted by shadows and silence. They rushed up to him as though to shake his hand, and he felt a brief claustrophobia as they surrounded him. Shutting the door, he effectively dispelled any light that remained in the room, since dark curtains, which must have been transmuted there upon Edward's entrance, obscured any illumination from the star filled night.

After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hohenheim found Edward laying in one of the beds, facing the wall. He had covered himself with a blanket, and was clasping the pillow to the side of his head as though it were the solitary object that kept him alive. Slowly and hesitantly, Hohenheim sat on the bed, but in a way that he wouldn't be too close to Edward to make him feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he watched as Edward tensed and curled himself up into a tight little ball.

"You've grown a lot," Hohenheim said quietly after a long and awkward silence. "I remember when you didn't even stand up to my knee."

Edward offered no indication that he would respond. Hohenheim scratched his head and continued on softly.

"When I discovered that I had to leave, I was devastated. It meant that I had to leave Trisha and you boys. I was looking forward to watching you two grow up so much. You may not believe me, but I loved the three of you more than anything."

"More than you loved Dante?" Edward's voice whispered acidly.

"You know then?" Hohenheim asked after a long pause.

"Yeah. But I haven't told Al. He doesn't need to know that his father married his mother on nothing more than a fling."

"That's not true. I never really loved Dante. Not the way I loved Trisha. Trisha is the first and last woman I will ever love."

Edward was silent again, and then he sighed and tilted his head a little to catch a small glimpse of his father. But when Hohenheim felt his son's eyes on him and looked at him, Edward quickly turned his gaze back to the wall.

"So then, tell me why you left."

"I couldn't let her see what was happening to me," Hohenheim whispered painfully.

"What do you mean? What happens when you jumps bodies for hundreds of years?" Edward asked in a mocking tone.

The blonde's father was silent for another long moment, and then cleared his throat.

"I suppose that I should have expected you to know that much. You're such a smart young man, Edward."

"..."

"My body–no– my soul is breaking down, deteriorating."

Edward, his attention caught, rolled over in the bed to face his father, his face showing nothing except for his eyes widening.

"That is what happens when you jump from body to body. Your soul slowly dies, and the body dies with it. To put it simply, my body is rotting, and I couldn't let Trisha see that."

The elder man looked at the floor as though ashamed. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts now, that he did not notice as his son sat up in bed next to him.

"She would have loved you either way," Edward whispered. His father turned to him, his eyes widening now. "She loved you so much, and the fact that she waited for you until her death is proof of that."

Silence leaked in from the crevices in the walls and coiled around them for several long moments. Edward was staring at his father, waiting for an answer, whilst the elder man watched the floor.

"I'm sorry," Hohenheim said at long last.

"Sorry isn't enough to bring Mom back. Sorry isn't enough to make the pain go away."

"I know. But I'm still sorry. It was all my fault that his happened to you and Alphonse. But now I want to help you and be there for you two. If you'll let me, that is."

Hohenheim did not receive a direct answer. Instead, he received a hand on his shoulder, and a small but gentle smile. He returned the smile, and watched as his son then lay back down and went to sleep. He gently ran his fingers through his son's hair, the smile remaining on his face.

"There is no such thing as equivalent exchange. The proof is right here. There is nothing that I could offer in return for the love of my sons."


End file.
